


Routine Stop

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Handcuffs, M/M, Motorcycle Sex, Police Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place between the main story and epilogue of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/491677">The Next Step</a>. Briefly mentioned by Sam and Tron during the epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine Stop

Sam couldn’t shake the cop that was tailing him. If he thought he could have taken a hand off the bike long enough to call Tron, he would have told him to make his buddy back the fuck off. Instead he pulled hard to the left, crossing four lanes and dodging an SUV in an effort to send the message that he wasn’t giving up without a fight. Still, the cop kept on him. Sam was starting to get desperate. He had promised both his father and Alan that he would stop risking his life just to get out of speeding tickets, but they had already passed several miles of road; at that point there was no way he wouldn’t get booked for evading, and that was going to cost him a lot more than a ticket.  
  
“Go away, damn it!” he shouted into his helmet. The cop wasn’t going to hear him, but he didn’t really care. He turned onto the next exit. It was a lonely, dark stretch of road, and with any luck he could turn out his lights and duck off somewhere to the side. The bastard would roll right past and never even know he’d missed his collar. Sam opened the throttle and surged ahead, coming off the ramp at a speed that nearly sent him out of control, but he recovered quickly and pulled off onto a small dirt road, just before it curved off into a grove of trees. The cop appeared half a minute later, too far behind to have seen Sam’s lights before they went out. Sam smiled at his own brilliance and sat back on the bike, waiting for his chance to make a break for it. He was already imagining how he would explain this latest escapade to the guys; Ernie would remind him of the one time he _hadn’t_ managed to get away, and Ed would act like he couldn’t care less, but Sam liked to think they were both deeply impressed by him, despite their claims to the contrary.  
  
Unfortunately it seemed he wasn’t going to get that chance. The officer slowed his motorcycle, coming to a stop in the middle of the road. Sam suddenly wished he’d had the forethought to hide behind a tree, rather than standing out in the open. There would be no hiding if the darkness wasn’t enough to conceal him. He froze, hoping by some small miracle that the cop wouldn’t notice the small dirt road directly to his right.  
  
Of course, he did, and then Sam could almost sense his eyes falling right across the man-shaped shadow standing astride a bike-shaped object only ten yards away.  
  
“Brilliant, man. Fucking brilliant,” he muttered to himself. “Okay, you got me!” He slipped off his helmet and knocked the kickstand out to the side. “I give up!”  
  
The officer’s bike revved and turned, and Sam put a hand in front of his face to block the bright glare from his headlights. “Thanks, I need to be humiliated _and_ blind.” He stood and waited for the inevitable verbal reprimand, but the cop said nothing, and didn’t even seem to care that Sam was acting like he’d only been pulled over for a minor infraction, rather than a potential felony. He took his time reaching for his ticket pad—at least that was what Sam thought he was going for. When he produced a pair of handcuffs things suddenly started to make a lot less sense.  
  
“What am I gonna do, ride on the back?” he asked. No response. “I don’t think that’s practicing proper road safety—hey!” He was grabbed just below the shoulder and pulled away from his own motorcycle, over to the other bike idling just a few feet away. Without any explanation or warning the cop jerked Sam’s arms back and handcuffed him, shoving him down over the seat and frisking him in a way that seemed far from regulation.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sam demanded.  
  
“Abusing my good luck, and these handcuffs.”  
  
Oh no. “Tron? Are you serious? No wonder I couldn’t shake you. Let me up!” Sam tried to stand, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down again.  
  
“Sorry, you’re under arrest, Sam,” Tron said. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t outrun me.”  
  
“You’ve gotta be kidding. That’s jail time, Tron, it isn’t funny.”  
  
Tron leaned over and turned the key, shutting off the bike. In the silence Sam realized that he’d picked a _very_ lonely road for his brilliant escape; if it had been anyone else, they never would have caught him. Of course his luck never lasted when he needed it to; just when things seemed to be going right, they went wrong.  
  
“I guess I could be _persuaded_ to let you go with a warning,” Tron said suggestively. He reached between Sam’s legs and traced the outline of his cock with one finger. “What do you think?”  
  
Sam’s body reacted before he could think of a response; it definitely liked the idea, even if he was still struggling to wrap his mind around the surreal set of events. Still, Tron was a cop, and Sam wasn’t going to just bend over and take it—even if he was already bent over. Even if he actually wanted to take it. “I think you should uncuff me and let me show you what I think,” he replied. He had a plan to run for it, not that he thought he would make it far.  
  
“Not happening.”  
  
“I wasn’t sure that would fly.”  
  
“Good effort, though,” Tron said as he reached around to unbutton Sam’s pants.  
  
Every tug dragged the fabric of his boxers across his already aching cock. He really, _really_ liked the idea of being bent over and ridden like part of the bike; he had just never realized how much before that moment. When Tron pulled his pants down Sam gasped at the sudden rush of cool air across his skin. Gloved hands covered him, spreading out across his ass and sliding around his hips and over his thighs. Sam hissed as Tron grasped his cock and started to jerk him hard, offering no mercy or warning. It skated the line between pleasure and pain, and Sam could only buck his hips back against Tron or forward onto the seat. When he pushed back he felt Tron’s erection, hard and straining against the fabric of his uniform. Sam fought himself for a moment before giving in and begging for it. “Let me suck your cock,” he rasped.  
  
Tron had been rocking against him with each stroke, rubbing himself against Sam’s leg, but he paused at the request. “You want it?”  
  
“Fucking—yes, please!” Sam kicked his foot out and arched his back—he couldn’t think of any other way to show just how _much_ he wanted it. One of the earliest discoveries he’d made was just how much he enjoyed giving head. It definitely wasn’t something he had ever expected to learn about himself, but he adapted quickly.  
  
When Tron disappeared from behind him Sam shivered, suddenly regretting not asking him to pull his pants up first. He could barely see in the dark, but he heard the sound of a buckle sliding from its catch, and the rustle of clothing as it was pushed aside. Then Tron’s hand came down on the back of his head, holding him gently, and Sam felt the familiar touch of warm, soft skin against his lips. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue around the head, wetting it and his own lips, opening his mouth for more as Tron slowly pushed forward. Just over halfway down he hit his limit, and Tron stopped. He fucked Sam’s mouth slowly, increasing his speed and depth gradually, gasping quietly as Sam flicked his tongue across the underside with each thrust.  
  
Hands would have been useful at that moment, but Sam could work without them. He was so focused on his task that he only barely registered Tron’s sudden shift; the slightest twitch of his hips and a hitch to every breath that told Sam he needed to stop.  
  
“Sam—I—”  
  
Sam let Tron’s cock slip from his mouth and took a deep, heavy breath before nodding. He already knew what Tron wanted, and he wanted it, too. “Fuck me, now,” he said. “ _Hard_.”  
  
Tron was around the other side of the motorcycle faster than Sam could register that he’d moved. He was quiet for a moment, and in the pause Sam heard a flurry of movement behind him. Then a slick, leather-clad finger pressed into his ass, sliding past the tight muscle and stretching him open. It had been a while since they were together, but something in Sam warmed at the thought that Tron was still so careful. He let his head drop down and spread his thighs as much as he could muster, moaning quietly each time Tron’s finger slid into him.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Tron, I need it, please,” he begged, trying to push back out of sheer desperation.  
  
He could hear Tron’s voice shake as he responded. “You want it, Sam?” His free hand came down and slapped hard against the side of Sam’s ass.  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Tell me,” Tron demanded. He pulled his finger out and moved himself into place. Just enough to send a thrill racing up Sam’s spine in anticipation. “Your favorite part.”  
  
“Ah, god—when you come—when you come inside me. _Please!_ ”  
  
“We’re a long way from that.” Tron pushed forward, and Sam caught his breath as he pressed into him, impossibly large compared to the finger that had been there just a moment before. It burned and ached, and still felt impossibly good. “What else?”  
  
“How—how big it—ah, fuck!”  
  
“You’re always so tight, Sam. It’s been so long…”  
  
It had been almost a month since the last time they were together, and Sam had counted every single day. He wouldn’t admit it, though. He couldn’t, without facing that it had meant more to him than it probably meant to Tron. He’d agonized over it, silently berating himself for getting so carried away by a regular hookup. When Tron stopped calling, he just assumed that was that. Apparently Tron still wanted more.  
  
More sounded good.  
  
“ _More_ ,” he groaned, echoing the word rolling around in his head.  
  
Tron pushed all the way in, and Sam let out a stream of curses and other vulgar suggestions that he probably should have felt ashamed to utter, but he wasn’t. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have Tron deep inside him, eager to let go and fuck him until neither of them could put two coherent words together. After a moment to let him adjust Tron pulled back again, only to drive forward so hard the bike almost went over, taking both of them with it. A quick hand caught it and hauled them all back upright.  
  
“We’d better be more careful,” Tron said, panting as he spoke. He moved again, drawing back and rocking forward, establishing a rhythm that had Sam’s cock rubbing against the seat until it felt like he could start a fire. He was so far over the other side that he was sure he would have simply fallen if Tron hadn’t grabbed the handcuffs as leverage. Sam’s wrists ached, but he could barely feel it over the motion and the friction from each deep push. He knew he would pay for it later, but it was worth the inevitable bruises.  
  
“Faster!”  
  
“Hard and fast? Is that how you want it?”  
  
“Yes, damn it!”  
  
Tron really let go then. He pulled tight on the cuffs, slamming forward even as he jerked Sam’s arms back. All around them the night was silent, except for the sounds of heavy breathing and the rattle of the bike below them. Sam’s legs were shaking from the effort of keeping himself upright, but he couldn’t move; Tron had him off balance, and all the control was in his hands. Sam could only focus on the dull ache of pleasure and plan his revenge. He flexed his fingers and tried not to cry out when one last, deep stroke caught him in just the right spot. His body flexed and tightened involuntarily, and behind him Tron’s hands disappeared from the cuffs. He leaned down over Sam’s back, hips stuttering and body shaking as he came.  
  
When it was over he sat up and pulled out, leaving Sam alone in the chill air while he fished for the keys. “That wasn’t fair,” he muttered.  
  
“I can’t just let you have it,” Sam snapped back playfully. His wrists were released a moment later, leaving sharp pain in place of the cuffs. Once free he sat up, only to be spun around and wrapped in a tight embrace. The strong arms wrapped around his back surprised him more than the kiss, but he hadn’t expected either. Sam grabbed at the back of Tron’s jacket, bunching the leather between his fingers and pulling him closer, not even sure what he was doing anymore. He just needed contact, and whatever he could have, while he could have it. After what felt like an eternity of tongues wrestling one another and teeth scraping over lips, Tron finally let him go and dropped to his knees. Sam felt a hot, wet mouth swallow him down, and the world disappeared to a pinpoint of sensation between his legs. As he worked his way down Tron moaned around his cock, making Sam shudder and grab the collar of his jacket for support. He could handle anything but _that._ He half-leaned against the seat and threaded his hands through Tron’s hair—when the helmet had come off was a complete mystery—thrusting gently into his mouth as he muttered praise and appreciation, pleading for _just a bit more_ , and _just a little deeper_. He got it, and Tron kept his mouth wrapped tight around him as he came a moment later, bucking his hips and biting off more curses to add to the evening’s accumulation.  
  
“I really enjoy these late night traffic stops,” Tron said as he stood up. He pulled his pants up and started fumbling with the catch of his belt.  
  
That brought an unpleasant, mood-wrecking thought crashing down on Sam’s evening. “I hope this isn’t routine for you,” he said quietly, and with a bit more sarcasm than he’d intended. Beneath the flash of anger he knew the comment was just a joke, but something about it hit him wrong and stuck.  
  
“I was just kidding,” Tron said.  
  
Sam shrugged. “I know that.”  
  
Tron gave up on the belt and let Sam do it for him. He watched Sam’s hands as he deftly worked the catch of the buckle. “There’s no one else I would want to handcuff in the woods and have sex with over the seat of my motorcycle, you know.”  
  
“That’s so romantic.”  
  
“I mean it.”  
  
Sam looked up; he couldn’t see Tron very well, but he could tell there was no more humor in his voice. “Yeah. Well…” He paused, trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t reveal anything he might regret admitting. Decades of practiced apathy and careful distance had taught him to play things close to the chest—even though everything in his life seemed to be going well at that moment, he knew there was a chance it would turn around again in an instant. Some part of him, deep down, still worried that everything was just temporary. Even Tron. “I’m alright with that,” he said finally.  
  
“I’ll come over tonight, when I’m off duty.”  
  
Sam lifted a hand and tugged at the zipper of Tron’s jacket, pushing it to the top. Even knowing there was a chance it might all suddenly end, some small part of him really hoped he was wrong. He looked at where his hands were still resting on Tron’s chest, and nodded. “I’ll be up.”


End file.
